French's Acting Edition, No. 2532. 



THE STORY OF 
CORPORAL BELL 



A PLAY FOR PRESENT TIMES 



IN ONE ACT 



By CYRIIv WENTWORTH HOGG 



SIXPENCE NET 



Copyright 1915 By Cyrii, Wkntworth Hogg 



LONDON : 
SAMUEL FRENCH, LTD. 

PUBLISHERS 

26 SOUTHAMPTON ST. 

STRAND 



NEW YORK : 

SAMUEL FRENCH 

PUBLISHER 

28 WEST 38th STREET 



THE STORY 
OF CORPORAL BELL 



THE RECRUIT 

6d. net. 

A PLAY OF THE MOMENT. 

IN ONE ACT. 

Mrs. Venables. 

Minnie Smith, her married daughter. 
Peggy, her unmarried daughter. 
Tom Bell. 



THE STORY OF 
CORPORAL BELL 

A PLAY FOR PRESENT 
TIMES 

IN ONE ACT 

By CYRIIv WENTWORTH HOGG 

Copyright, 1915, by Cyril Wentworth Hogg 



New York - London 

SAMUEL FRENCH SAMUEL FRENCH Ltd 

Publisher 26 Southampton Street 

28-30 WEST 38TH STREET | STRAND 



1^\ 



TMP92-009192 



SEP 30 1915 



Ci.D 41875 



THE STORY OF CORPORAL BELL 



The characters are : — - 

CYNTHIA 
MARTHA 
PEGGY 



The Fee for each and every representation of this 
play by Amateurs is Fifteen ShilUngs, payable in 
advance to : — 

Messrs. Samuel French, Ltd. 

26, Southampton Street, 

Strand, London, 

or their authorized representatives. 

No performance may be given unless a written 
permission has first been obtained. 

All the costumes, wigs and properties used in the 
performance of plays contained in French's list may 
be hired or purchased reasonably from Messrs. Charles 
H. Fox, Ltd., 27, Wellington Street, Strand, London. 



THE STORY OF CORPORAL BELL 

A top flat in Kensington occupied by Cynthli and 
Martha. The scene is a living-room. In the centre, 
at the back, is a door leading to a tiny hall. Another 
door on the right of the stage leads to other rooms. 
Facing this, that is on the left of the stage, is the fire- 
place. A table stands in the right centre part of the 
room, down stage. There are chairs, a bookcase filled 
with books and the usual furniture. The room is 
bright and pleasant. Early evening in May, 1915. 

Cynthia, a pretty girl of twenty, is occupied at the 
table with the design of a fashion plate. Over her dress 
she wears a long blue apron, bearing many a stain of 
paint. A postman's knock is heard. She rises, 
wiping her hands, and goes from the room, returning 
quickly with a letter which she opens and reads. The 
letter causes many exclamatiojts — an " Oh I " an 
" Ah ! " a " Well, / " and a " What shall I " 

Martha comes in. Martha is not prepossessing. 
Some few years older, she is in marked contrast to 
Cynthlv's neatness. Martha is, in fact, very slovenly. 
In addition she wears black-rimmed spectacles which 
make looks more hopeless. But she is certainly not 
grotesque and her voice is really charming. She has a 
fen in her ear, a cigarette in her lips and an empty 
photograph frame in her hand. The back of the 
frame is in her other hand so that it is easily seen the 
frame is empty. 

7 



8 TEE STORY OF CORPORAL BELL. 

Martha, Old thing, couldn't you bear me on your 
dressing table any longer ? Pitched me out of the 
window, did you ? 

(Cynthia has collapsed into a chair, the hand holding 
the letter limply hanging doivn so that Martha 
doesn't see it.) 

Cynthia. Don't worry me now, Martha. 

Martha [now sitting). It's to be hoped I've been 
picked up by a bright young man, a religious young 
man, a young man appreciative of the great possession 
he has come into. 

Cynthia. No — no. Of course I didn't throw it 
out of the window. Whyever d'you want to pry 
about in my bedroom ? 

Martha. I only went searching for myself. They 
commence my new serial en Monday and they ask for a 
photograph of the authoress for Saturday's issue. 

Cynthia. As if they could print such a terrible thing 
of you as that ! It's a mercy you didn't find it. 

Martha. Pardon me, it's more like me than any 
photo I ever had. And it's an axiom that women 
who write the best serials are hideous. If Saturday's 
readers found something fluffy and saucy grinning 
up at them, their minds would be made up the serial 
was going to be rotten and they'd never get busy on it. 

Cynthia. I haven't got the photograph, Martha, 
I haven't any idea where it is, and I haven't any inten- 
tion of looking for it and do leave me alone, there's 
a sweet woman. 

Martha [jumping up). Righto ! So veiled a hint 
is not lost on me, my lady. [She goes towards the door.) 
They do without it. That's that. (She takes the 
pen from her ear and is about to open the door.) 

[Before she gets out, an idea comes to CynthL'\. She 
rises in a hurry.) 

Cynthia [quickly). Couldn't we get away for a 
few days ? I'll pay fares. You can do the rest of 



THE STORY OF CORPORAL BELL. [) 

your chapters just as well in the countr\', and this 
stuff of mine may go in any time within a month. 

Martha. Yesterday nothing on earth would 
induce you to take a holiday during the war. 

Cynthia {making the excuse with difficulty). On 
reflection, I'm inclined to believe I was unwise. 

Martha. No, I must be handy to correct my first 
week's proofs. When that's done, yes. 

Cynthia. My dear, I want to go now — say within 
an hour or so. Let's shut the place up and bolt. 

Martha (coming towards her). If you bolt, you 
bolt from something. Why should I bolt ? 

Cynthia. Well — from here. From the flat, of 
course. 

Martha. Cynthia, have you got a love affair 
coming into action ? 

Cynthia. Talk sense — do ! (Cynthia emphasises 
*' do " by shakes of the letter.) 

Martha. I've done that sudden want to bolt so 
often in m^^ tales. You wouldn't like me to read 
that letter ? 
(Cynthl\ is conscious she has betrayed herself, and put 

out at having done so, she goes to the fireplace and 

turns to Martha, after a moment's thought.) 

Cynthia. It's the last thing in the world I would 
like, but it's dawning upon me I shall have to let you. 

(Martha gets from her chair and coming over puts out 
her hand for the letter. Cynthia promptly sticks it 
behind her back.) 

Cynthia. Sit down there. 
(Martha sits down by the fireplace. There is a pause.) 

Cynthia {hesitating). To commence with — no, it 
doesn't commence there. {A pause.) Some weeks 
ago — {She stops — then in a flood of words) Oh, Martha, 
I'm in the most unspeakable, fiendish mess of my life. 
I'd give you to midnight and you wouldn't guess one 
jot of the ghastly fix I'm in. 



10 THE STORY OF CORPORAL BELL. 

(Martha gets up with words of alarm.) 

Cynthia {shrieking to stop her). No, sit still. 
Once you begin sympathy I shall break down. (Martha 
sinks hack into her chair — then Cynthia sits also.) 
Can't you start me off somehow ? 

Martha (weakly). Once upon a time 



Cynthia. Thank you, dear. Yes. Accurately, it 
was a couple of months ago I took some drawing to the 
" World of Women " and the people in the office were 
having a whip round for cigarettes. Every one sub- 
scribing addressed a postcard so that the Tommy who 
^ot your packet would be able to write you his thanks. 
That's clear, isn't it? 

Martha {alarmed). And your lot was so poisonous 



Cynthia. Poisonous ! Til have you know that 
never in the ten years of a smoker's career was tobacco 
half so soothing, that every puff of smoke curled 
away into a vision of his benefactor in all the wealth of 
her wonderful girlhood, and each cigarette should cost 
Germany a corpse. He said so on the postcard. 

Martha. Dear me ! 

Cynthia. And would I write to him ? Letters 
were longed for and he had very few. What could 
I do but write ? 

Martha. Why, yes. 

Cynthia. It's easy to say " yes." I do wish I'd 
had the strength to say " no." 

Martha. But you didn't ? 

Cynthia. No. I wrote. Very difficult, of course, 
but I thought home life might appeal to him most. I 
told him about you and a little about me, about your 
writing and my design work, and then a little about 
both of us ; how we preferred Lyons tea to Stores tea, 
and the fearful anxiety over the housekeeping money. 
It seemed to me a feeble lot of nonsense, but Martha, 
my dear, whatever wild ecstasy he had left from the 
cigarettes, he shed over my letter when he got it. 

Martha {glowing). The nice chap. 



THE STORY OF CORPORAL BELL. 11 

Cynthia. He isn't nice — how can he be nice when 
he has lured me into such a pickle ? Better for him 
to have stuck to the grocer's shop he came from than 
go getting himself made into a soldier just to catch poor 
me. 

Martha. Catch you ! Catch 30U ? 

Cynthia (irritably). You don't help me — I should 
have thought you could guess a great deal. Instead, 
I have to ladle it out word by word. 

Martha. Really, Cynthia, I'm rather afraid to 
guess. 

Cynthia. Well — wait a minute. I'll tell you this 
from where you can't see me. (She goes up and stands 
behind Martha.) He wanted love-letters. (She 
pauses to see the effect on MartHx\, but Martha doesn't 
move.) He actually asked me to write him love-letters. 
He made the excuse that all the others in his section 
got love-letters and getting none himself made him 
feel the cold more at night. (She peers round to see 
how Martha takes this.) Aren't you horrified ? 

Martha (briskly). Not a bit ! 

Cynthia (coming to the front of her again). Then 
you ought to be. Where the wretch was so abomin- 
able was next day he followed it up with how he'd 
had to stand in his trench four hours on end with ice- 
cold water up to his middle. Not even the tact, you 
understand, to call his waist his waist. What was I 
to do? 

Martha. Sit down and write him yard after yard 
of what he asked for. 

Cynthia (who is now sitting). Yes, imagine four 
hours ! I've always been impressed with the delicacy 
Lord Lytton's lovers wrote to one another. The 
first few letters I borrowed from " Ernest Maltravers " 
— modernized them here and there, put in local points 
and they were very readable. 

Martha. You mean to tell me you sent a man on 
active service chunks of Lord Lytton ! May 3^ou be 
forgiven ! 



12 THE STORY OF CORPORAL BELL. 

Cynthia. Oh, my good Martha, spare your sneers. 
They filled his soul, they warmed his poor body, 
they soothed and comforted — Heaven alone knows 
the few things they didn't do. 

Martha. All that on a postcard too ? 

Cynthia. No, but I suppose the censor has made 
a note of the miracles Lord Lytton and I can manage. 
But don't make too much of Lord Lytton. I filched 
from every blessed book there (she points to the hook- 
case) till three weeks ago I came to the end of them. 
And one night I was stumped, with a letter overdue. 

Martha. If you'd only told me. 

Cynthia. Don't interrupt. So 1 went into your 
room and found a God-sent thing, " The Love Letters 
of an Unfaithful Woman." Martha, you shouldn't 
leave books like that about, but I can't deny they have 
their uses. 

Martha. Well, she's very Jiiuch more to the point 
than Lord Lytton. 

Cynthia. Exactly. What the unfaithful woman 
said through me brought the crisis right on me. 
Would you believe it, he sent his photograph and wanted 



mme 



Martha. Do let me see. 

Cynthia (hesitating). Now I warn you, allowing 
for his show}^ clothes and the bits of luggage hanging 
so rippingly all over him, even then he's . . . dis- 
tinctly good looking. 

Martha (relieved). Ah ! What encouragement 
to one's imagination. 

(Cynthia goes to a drawer and brings out a photograph 
which she takes to Martha, who has risen to meet her.) 

Cynthia. Corporal Tom Bell. 

(Martha looks at the photograph a moment or two before 
replying.) 

Martha. Fancy ! The waste of that behind a 
grocer's counter. (She props the photograph up against 



THE STORY OF CORPORAL BELL. 13 

the clock. Still looking at it.) And what had he to 
say about your photograph ? 

Cynthia (fidgeting). Yes. Now we've come to the 
real mess. 

^Iartha. Even if he said you were the prettiest 
girl in the country, you ought to be proud to tell me. 

Cynthia [having decided on a new line). Martha, 
dear, why won't you take more notice of how you 
look? 

Martha, Shut up. 

Cynthia. But I'm not going to. You always 
give an idea you're not properly contained. There's 
loose hair roaming far from the top of your ear. All 
down the back you're highlands and lowlands. Your 
skirt has an opening top and bottom, one of which you 
just get into. And I'm sure you wear trick stays — • 
once they're round you, they vanish. 

Martha [pleasantly). What else ? 

Cynthia. Those painful goggles ! Rimless pince- 
nez are neat and presentable. No, you rather fancy 
yourself as near to a slut as you can manage. And 
to crown all you're photographed in the rig out you 
roll about in all day. 

Martha. Yes, I suppose at my time of life I ought 
to begin to think of my appearance. What has this 
to do with Corporal Bell ? 

Cynthia [uncomfortable — making imaginary patterns 
on her skirt). Well . . . when he asked for my 
photograph, I came to the conclusion . . . that I'd 
gone just about as far as was good for His Impertinence, 
and I . . . I . . . racked my brains for the best 
means to chuck it. 

Martha [very deliberately). You don't meant to say 
you dropped writing after having seen what he was 
like? 

Cynthia [very deliberately). No, the thorough way, 
you see, was to make him have no further wish to write 
to me. And ... so I sent back. . . . 

[She stops dead and can't go on.) 



14 THE STORY OF CORPORAL BELL. 

Martha (alter a pause). What ? 

Cynthia. Why can't you use the brains j^ou put 
into your serials and guess, Martha ? It would be 
such a help. 

Martha. Go on. 

Cynthia [forcing it out, loudly and quickly). The 
abominable production of you that lived in that 
frame and said it was me. [She is very relieved it is out.) 

Martha (surprised, hut not in the least annoyed). 
You don't mean to tell me I'm as much a guy as that 
— a regular man-alarm ? 

Cynthia. My dear, you make yourself a guy. 

Martha. Oh, I assure you the lesson shall not be 
lost on me. Most intelligent of you, Cynthia, I de- 
clare, but an atrocious act towards this darling thing. 
(She flourishes the Corporal's photograph.) I'm afraid 
your heart is stone. 

Cynthia (angrily). Atrocious ! Was it ? I'm more 
involved than ever ! He adores your homely expres- 
sion — ^you're far beyond his stupid anticipation — - 
page on page of utter slobber, sickening rot. Oh, 
you disappointing woman ! 

(Martha now sits with a cheerful smile on her face.) 

(Shaking her finger at Martha.) But I got back on you. 
From then I kind of turned him over to you. The 
rest of my letters were unedited extracts from your 
worst serials. 

Martha. With what result ? 

Cynthia [mournfully — ajter a pause). He liked 
them more than any he'd had. (Crying in despair.) 
And he's coming home on leave ! Here, read it. 
(She tosses the letter into Martha's lap.) 

(Having done so, Cynthia, while Martha reads the 
letter, paces about the room, talking.) 

There's no coping with the silly but to run right away 
from him. Pack your traps, Martha. I'll hide you 
from him, the marauder. Every moment you sit 



THE STORY OF CORPORAL BELL. 15 

swallowing his nonsense is a moment nearer danger. 
{She snatches the letter from Martha.) 

Martha [very disappointed). You might have let 
me finish it. 

Cynthl\. Aren't you alive to the peril you're in ? 
Most likely he'll make a bee line for here. 

(Martha stands up.) 

Martha (gazing at the Corporal's photograph). 
Naturally. 

Cynthl\ (taking off her apron). In half an hour 
at the latest, we must be starting — let that be de- 
finite ! 

Martha. Think of the disappointment as he 
rings and knocks and no one answers. 

Cynthia (loashing the brushes). Yes, I know. If 
I've called myself a fool once, I've done it a hundred 
times. Other people in the world have tried to be 
kind and made a muck of it. That's the best excuse 
I have. 

(Martha tiirjis round to her and after a short silence.) 

Martha {imth firm decision). You don't drag me 
off. When he comes, he shall find me. 

Cynthl\ (closing up the paint box and drying her 
brushes on a cloth — laughing). Oh Martha, if I beheved 
you such a hussy as that I couldn't live with you any 
more. 

Martha (placidly). I mean it. I'm very interested. 

CynthL'V (turning and looking at her— -petulantly). 
Now I've had enough to worry me as it is • 

Martha. From this minute you're relieved of any 
further worry. (She sits in the chair.) 

(Cynthia crosses the room to her before speaking.) 

Cynthia. It's very clever of us, Martha, consider- 
ing it was a great liberty to send your photograph as I 
did, it's very clever of us to have thrashed this out 
without getting at all angry. But I w^arn you we may 
start right in to the deuce of a row. 



16 THE STORY OF CORPORAL BELL. 

Martha (simply). Perhaps what I intend to do is 
very shameful. Nevertheless, there exists the case 
of a man who has written his praise of what I seem to 
him. When he comes away from the horrors out there, 
this will be the end of his journey. And at the end of 
his journey, shameful or not, he shall find me. That's 
all about it. 

Cynthia. If you'd been doing the writing, there 
might be some excuse. 

Martha. Don't forget it was my stuff that appealed 
most to him. 

{There is another pause.) 

Cynthia. Martha, I hope you won't think me 
spiteful, but listen. You make a great point of him 
not being disappointed. Very well. But there's 
more in your madness than that. Hateful of me to 
say so, I know, but I'm going to. The fact is, yoii 
want to meet the man. 

Martha. Certainly I do. Heavens, d'you imagine 
I'm ashamed of the first signs of romance that have 
ever brightened my life ? I revel in it, you prim child. 

{There is a loud rat-tat-tat on the front door, followed 
hy an extensive burr of the electric bell. The knock 
leaves them speechless and fixed at the attitude it 
caught them in. The ring causes a shock and then a 
further period of immobility. It is Cynthia who 
makes the first move. With a little shriek, she runs 
hurriedly from the room, saying as she runs.) 

Cynthia. Don't you call for me — don't you dare 
— I refuse to see him. (She is gone.) 

(Martha is rather at a loss at first. Then she places a 
chair in the middle of the fireplace and stands on it so 
that she can see herself in the overmantel. She vigor- 
ously goes for her skirt and shifts it round an inch 
or two — she wriggles and pulls at the back of her blouse 
— and she does what she can for her hair. The knock is 
repeated. She jumps from the chair and taking off 



THE STORY OF CORPORAL BELL. 17 

lier spectacles lays them on the mantel piece. Then, 
with some difficulty, for Martha is very short-sighted, 
she goes out into the hall, leaving the door wide open. 
You hear Jier open the front door.) 

Peggy (whose voice is quick and sharp). Evening. 
Martha [after a pause — -in a very differ ent tone). 
Good evening. 

Peggy. Mind me coming in ? 
Martha. Oh do. 

(There is another silence. Peggy then appears in the 
doorway. Peggy is dressed in quiet clothes of a good 
cut. She is a thin girl of a fair height. In her hand 
she carries a packet of letters. She comes to the 
middle of the room. Martha has followed her and 
makes her way over to the mantelpiece, bruising her 
shins against the chair on the way. She runs her 
fingers up and down the mantelpiece. She turns.) 

Martha. Could you tell me whether my spectacles 
are on the mantelpiece ? I'm very short-sighted. 

(Peggy comes over.) 

Peggy (who now sees the photograph against the 
clock). Just about tickle 'is fancy being stuck there, 
that would. 

Martha. Eh ? 

Peggy (taking the spectacles, which were propped 
against the clock, and handing them to Martha). A 
young lady named Miss Cynthia Hammond's cause of 
me looking in. (Martha has now put on her spectacles.) 
O' course, you yourself — never struck me who you was 
till you put them on. (On the top of her papers is 
the missing photograph that went to Corporal Bell. 
She shows it to Martha.) 

Martha [who is most amazed). May I ask how you 
come to have this photograph ? 

Peggy. Ell tell the tale, never you fear — all in 
'igh time. (She sits down.) My name's Peggy. Em 



18 THE STORY OF CORPORAL BELL. 

maid to Lady Tibby Veavey — dress her to look right, 
you know, not sweepin' an' dustin/ 

(Martha is most unconij or table.) 

Martha. Would you excuse me while I call my 
friend in ? [She moves to do so.) 

Peggy. The writing one ? Just how you fancy, 
but you don't tell me she knows what you've been say- 
ing in these letters surely ! (She holds out the pile of 
letters.) 

(Martha goes to her quickly with an " Oh ! " and takes 

the letters. Cynthia, obviously listening outside 

■ the other door, bursts into the room, speaking at once.) 

Cynthia (horrified). He's dead and they were in 
his kit they've sent back ! 

(Peggy is startled by the intrusion.) 

Peggy (after a moment). No, he's not dead, bless 
yer. Very alive'o, take it from me. Mind the 
draught from that keyhole don't give you the earache. 

Cynthia (flurried). Whatever excuse you have for 
these letters being in your possession you've no busi- 
ness to carry them about loosely. You might drop one. 

Peggy. Nothing to blush for in them if I 'ad. 
They've drawn a tear or two from me more'n once. 
What odds. 

Cynthia (to Martha — very annoyed). She's read 
them, if you please. 

Peggy. I've read them. Forty-nine — one more'd 
'ave made the half hundred. 

Cynthia. Oh ! (She snatches the packet from 
Martha and holds it behind her back.) 

Martha (to Cynthia). / don't mind her having 
read them, dear. 

Peggy (to Cynthia). If she don't mind, you turn- 
ing so acid's being a bit lavish with yourself. 

Cynthia. But thev weren't meant for ^^ou. 



THE STORY OF CORPORAL BELL. 19 

Peggy (rocking her head from side to side — casually). 
P'r'aps not. That's as may be. 

Martha (to Peggy). Is an3'thing to be gained by 
this mystery ? Can't 3^ou tell us straight out what you 
have to ? 

Peggy. Now haven't I been wantin' to hard 
enough ? Both of you clucking away like hens, who's 
'ad half a chance. 

Martha. Do go on. 

Peggy. First an' foremost let me tell you he's 
{she points at the photograph of the Corporal) as cunning 
a rascal as ever was. 

Martha (emphatically). I'm sure he's not. 

Peggy. Isn't he ? You listen to this. There's a 
young woman he's had 'is eye over many a long day. 

(Martha is about to say something, but Cynthia grabs 
her arm.) 

On the tip of being married they was, matter of that 
she'd left the place she was in even. An' out he blurts 
wdth he's off to join. She was tired, I give you my 
word. 

Martha. Because he'd joined ? What a girl ! 

(Cynthlv goes and sits at the table and rnns through 
tlie packet of letters.) 

Peggy. No, not by reason of 'im joining, thank 
you. Glad an' proud 'e had, she was. On account 
of what was in 'is silly mind. He wanted too much 
joining, yer see. An' not the 'appiest of tempers 'as 
this young w^oman. Gets the needle at anything not 
'appening according to what she's set her wits on. 

Cynthia (rising and coming towards them). Why is 
it the address is cut off the top of every letter ? 

Peggy (very huffy). You see you kep' at me to get 
along and when I do 

Cynthia (with a sigh). All right. I won't butt in 
again. I'm sorry. 

Peggy. No offence. 



20 THE STORY OF COUPORAL BELL. 

Martha [prompting— eagerly). We'd reached where 
she got the needle 

Peggy. Yes, as I was telUng you, what Tom Bell 
got daft on was they was to be married straight off 
and she was to go living with 'is old mother while he 
was out o' England so as to save the money of two 
'ouseholds. That's what he said, but twig the sly 
boots ? (Emphatically.) Some one to keep a eye 
against 'er getting into mischief. Precious lot of good 
the love she 'ad was to him if that was 'is feelings. 
And a nasty how d'you do and 'igh words came of it, 
him making out nothing of the sort ever come into his 
mind. 

Cynthia. Wouldn't it be much simpler if you 
stopped trying to make us think there was any other 
girl but you ? 

Peggy (ajter a sharp look at Cynthia). The same 
to me 'owever you have it. 

Martha [who is always taken in). You ! Oh, 
I'm afraid you've been a great trial to him ! 

Peggy (snappily). Anyhow you don't catch me 
living with his old mother. My mother never grew 
to abide me, let alone his. 

Martha. But you resigned yourself to what he 
wished before he left — of course you did. 

(Peggy stands up.) 

Peggy. Did I ? No fear. Back I went to Lady 
Tibby soon as winking and. let Tom go to do his bit 
with a good big flea to bite his ear. 

Martha (tearfully). Oh, you cruel girl — how could 
you? 

Peggy. You've not seen me enough. I'm that 
stubborn you'd never guess. Once my mind's stuck 
on a thing, old Nick don't budge it. It's awful being 
Uke that, sort of tears you inside out, knowing the 
whole while you're wrong and can't make your beastly 
self say ditto. Just you fancy the 'orrid pains I'd 



THE STORY OF CORPORAL BELL. 21 

'ave each time his letter come and me not going to 
take no notice. 

Cynthia (quickly). He was still sending you letters 
while he was writing here ? 

Peggy. If I'd not 'ad his letters reg'lar enough 
I'd 've soon busied myself into knowin' why. The 
stoopid goat 'adn't the brains to see that was how to 
bring me round. 

Cynthia (definitely). Instead of which ■ 

Peggy. 'Stead of which it gets into his great 
'ollow head I'd give in quick enough if another young 
lady was concerned in 'im. Soon as ever her (refer- 
ring to Martha) loving words were in 'is wicked 'ands, 
he cHps the address off so's I can't 've come here and 
posts it to me. 

(Martha sinks into a chair with a little cry. Cynthia 
is very cross.) 

Cynthia. My goodness — did one ever ! 

Peggy. The two last — since the photo — ^was what 
did it. (Near Martha.) Must be a rare treat being 
able to write like that. Though you ought to be 
ashamed of yourself, carryin' on in that fashion with 
a man you'd never clapped eyes on. (To Cynthia.) 
You'd never put down what she can though yours 
is in print in the paper. 

Cynthia. No, I suppose not. 

Peggy (to Martha). Seemed to me more of them 
an' he'd never stand it no longer, and where'd I've 
been ? What was I to do but write and tell 'im to 
try for leave off ? 

Martha. Ah, I'm glad you did that. 

Peggy. Way I look at it's this. He's the pick of 
all men and he's fighting on the side that God's picked. 
A pretty good go-off for a girl I reckon. 

Martha (genuinely). When you see him promise to 
make up for the trouble you've been. 

(Peggy smiles before she answers.) 



22 THE STORY OF CORPORAL BELL. 

Peggy. I was married this morning to Corporal 
Tom Bell. He's waiting in the street below. We've 
only three da3's for our hone3Tnoon before he's due 
back. 

(Cynthia is at once sojiened.) 

Cynthia (with real jeeling). Oh you poor, poor dear ! 
I am disgusted with myself for being cross to you. 

Martha [distressed). The idea of keeping him 
loitering about the street ! 

Peggy. Both of us knew you'd to be thanked for 
what's took place. As for him, the cowardy custard 
that ought to be thankin' you too, the trenches is 
play-time to stepping inside here. That's what he 
said, so o' course it 'ad to be me. And if it's the same 
to you I'd like the photo back for keeps. (She picks 
lip Martha's photograph from the table.) 

Martha. It's so kind of you to want to have it. 

Peggy (with a sigh). Well, that's all. Good 
evening. 

Martha. Good-bye. (She takes up Peggy's hand 
in both her own and presses it ivarmly.) 

Cynthia (on the other side of Peggy). Good luck 
is what I say, Mrs. Bell. 

(Martha goes and opens the door, and leaving it open, 
steps into the hall and is heard opening the front door. 
This happens while the following sentences are spoken.) 

Peggy (chuckling). Mrs. Bell! Mrs. Bell! Take 
me awhile gettin' into the knack of that, no mistake. 

Cynthia. I'm sure you're just the type to be a 
soldier's wife. No snivelling and fuss when he goes 
back, whatever you suffer. I don't wonder he thought 
you were worth his tricks. 

(Martha comes back.) 

Martha (still distressed). Do hurr}' — think how 
sick he'll be of hanging about ! 

(Peggy turns. She pauses a moment before Martha.) 



THE STORY OF CORPORAL BELL. 23 

Peggy. Thank you again, Miss. 

(Martha ushers her out. Cynthia stands a moment — 
then she hastily takes out her handkerchief and wipes 
away a tear. The door is heard to close. She turns 
to the mantelpiece and blows her nose. Martha 
conies hack with a little can of milk. She glances 
at Cynthia's hack as she comes down to the table, 
where she puts the milk.) 

Martha. The milk's come. I'll make the coffee. 

(Cynthia does neither answer nor move, hut continues 
to dab her nose. Martha comes slowly over to her.) 

Martha (penitently). Cynthia. I suppose one 
ought to feel dreadfully disgraced. 

Cynthia [swinging round — her eyes red). Disgraced ! 
You creature ! It's the most edifying affair you've 
ever had a share in. 

Martha (i^ith great enthusiasm). That's just what 
I think too, dear ! 

[She kisses Cynthia heartily.) 



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